30 Kisses Saga
by Lea Woods
Summary: Originally part of the 30 Kisses challenge group on Livejournal, this 30part series follows Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood through one of their final years at Hogwarts and the bond between them that grows from friendship to something more...
1. Starry, Starry Night

Title: Starry, Starry Night

Author: Lea Woods Percy Weasley/ Oliver Wood

Fandom: Harry Potter

Theme: #1 – Look at me

Rating: G

Spoilers: N/A

Disclaimer: The characters contained herein aren't mine, though the premise of the piece is. It is in no way intended for monetary gain, only entertainment purposes. Characters and Hogwarts are copyright J.K. Rowling and her respective publishers.

Warnings: Slashy fluff or fluffy slash, depending on how you look at it. Innuendo you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it.

Summary: An astronomy lesson on a chilly night leaves Percy with little to do but watch his classmates…

The stars trembled in a hazy heaven as a storm moved in from the north. It was chilly, but late September often was at Hogwarts. Percy shivered a little and wrapped his arms more tightly about himself. Even with his heavy cloak and Christmas sweater from the previous year on, the winds cut him to the bone. The breezes were particularly cruel atop the tower.

He blew into his hands to warm them, then looked through his telescope once more, carefully noting the stars in the evening sky on the star chart Professor Sinistra had given them at the beginning of the lesson. He labeled the last wayward star on his chart (Sirius), then drew faint lines connecting several major constellations together.

That done, he carefully compared his notes to the section of night sky that appeared through his scope, noting idly that most of his classmates were still struggling to identify the glints of light they saw through their own telescopes. Eventually satisfied with his work – or as satisfied as he would be doing work in the dark atop the tallest tower of the school – he handed his chart off to the professor and disassembled his telescope. Tucking it into its case, he sat in one of the more sheltered window wells to wait for the rest of the class to finish their charts so they could all go inside and to bed.

There came a point where he ceased noticing the cold. He was too numb to feel it anymore. While he waited, he watched the students nearest him, nearly all of whom were working in pairs. He shook his head. Percy really didn't see the allure in working in a small group. You had to trust other people to do their part of the work to the best possible standard, or at least the best of their abilities. He had been let down in that respect far too often to willingly submit himself to such torture ever again.

Another person seemed to share his sentiments, at least as far as astronomy was concerned. Oliver Wood, his roommate and sometimes confidante, stood nearest Percy's shelter, working on his own chart with the same intense focus he afforded everything he was genuinely interested in (usually just Quidditch). Percy smiled a little, watching his friend carefully label dots on his chart. His heart twinged as Oliver impatiently brushed a lock of russet brown hair out of his eyes, but Percy shook his head. Hope was futile at best.

Instead, he focused his sights on the heavens, watching clouds drift to and fro before the stars. He got lost in the muted quality of the night, blocking out the sounds of people around him and just listening to the way the wind blew through the trees.

He was so absorbed that it took a gentle hand on his shoulder to bring his attention a little closer to home. He jumped at the contact and blinked owlishly at the person trying to rouse him. Percy gulped. It was Oliver.

"Welcome back," he said in his quiet brogue. "It's past time to go in. We're the only ones left up here."

Percy looked around and flushed. "Oh. Sorry."

Oliver shrugged. "Not a problem. Let's go in, if you're done stargazing. It's freezing, and I'm tired."

The redhead nodded and tried to stand up. It took a moment of mental cursing for his blood to start flowing, but he was able to stand (stiffly) up without help. He swayed as the blood rushed from his head and Oliver reached out and grabbed his shoulder. It burned where his fingers touched him.

Percy smiled tremulously. "I'm all right."

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"All right."

They started slowly for the door to the rest of the tower. In the dim light cast by the half-moon, Percy stumbled on some uneven stones and threw out a hand which, unfortunately, found Oliver's. Percy's cheeks flamed as he regained his balance and hurriedly snatched his hand back. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Your hands are freezing. Don't you have any gloves?"

Percy shook his head. "Not anymore. I outgrew my old ones and…well, just haven't gotten around to getting new ones."

They walked silently into the castle and down the stairs to the third floor, then wandered along until they found a stair that would take them towards Gryffindor tower.

"So," they began in unison, then laughed.

"Go ahead," Percy murmured.

"Was there a reason you were watching me earlier?"

"What?" Percy said, startled enough that he stopped walking.

Oliver gestured toward the roof. "Up there. While we were working. You were done and had just sat down. You were watching me. Why?"

"I-," Percy began but stopped. What reason could he give? _I was watching you because I had nothing better to do. Because you fascinate me. Because I was imagining running my fingers through your hair and kissing you up there in front of the stars and everyone else._ He shook his head. "I don't really have a reason." He started walking again.

Oliver quirked an eyebrow but didn't press the matter. The were approaching the portrait hole and the many curtained alcoves outside it when he worked up his nerve. "Percy," he began. Stormy grey-blue eyes focused intently upon him. Oliver bit his lip. "Come here," He grabbed the other boy's arm and dragged him toward an alcove ripping the curtain aside and stopping dead.

A couple sat in the windowseat, limbs entwined and lips locked together. It took them a moment to notice Percy and Oliver staring at them. Then they stared defiantly back.

Oliver cleared his throat uncomfortably, unconsciously letting go of Percy's arm. "I'm...uh…sorry to have disturbed you." He replaced the curtain and turned to apologize to Percy, who, unfortunately, was no longer there. Oliver looked wildly around and spotted him next to the portrait hole, about to speak the password and go inside. Oliver ran to catch him.

"I'm sorry about that," he said breathlessly. "I just wanted to…"

Percy shook his head, face flaming brighter than his hair. "it's all right. Let's just…just get to bed, all right?"

Oliver sighed, disappointed. "All right."

He followed his friend silently across the common room and up the stairs into their room. Neither one spoke as they went through their evening rituals. Shortly thereafter the candles were out and both boys were in their respective beds. Oliver lay on his back with his head resting on his arms.

He stared quietly out the window as raindrops began to patter against the beveled panes. In his mind he replayed the astronomy lesson, particularly the part where Percy had looked at him so intently. Over and over again he remembered, analyzing every movement.

As he drifted off, lulled by the rhapsodic sound of the rain, he thought absently that he'd give just about anything to have Percy look at him that way just one more time.

Fin


	2. Smile

Title: Smile

Author: Lea Woods

Pairing: Percy Weasley/ Oliver Wood

Fandom: Harry Potter

Theme: #2 – News; Letter

Rating: PG

Spoilers: N/A

Disclaimer: The characters contained herein aren't mine, though the premise of the piece is. It is in no way intended for monetary gain, on entertainment purposes. Characters and Hogwarts are copyright J.K. Rowling and her respective publishers.

Warnings: Slashy fluff or fluffy slash, depending on how you look at it. Innuendo you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it (and shame on you if you are!)

Summary:

Author's Notes: Intended as a sequel to, "Starry, Starry Night," though it can stand on its own.

---

He'd been sitting there waiting for a change for hours, but none came. Snow continued to fall softly outside the window, students continued speaking quietly (presumably studying), and he still sat in a window well (inside and blissfully warm this time), poking at the letter he had received in the post that morning.

The handwriting was neat and legible with a small flourish here and there that led him to believe the author had spent more than a little time on the contents. He read it again and again, shook his head in disbelief. Who would believe that Prissy Percy the Prefect had (dare he say it)an..._admirer_?

He stared absently at the snow swirling outside, mind still reeling. Who in their right minds would even consider writing to him? He was tall and gangly. He had red hair, freckles, glasses…he was a bookworm for Merlin's sake!

There was a little bit of a commotion at the library doors that drew his eyes. A group of lower year girls was crowding inside, giggling and being summarily scolded by Madam Pince. Percy chuckled a little and shook his head, He knew that within seconds, his roommate would reveal himself, slipping out of the shadows slightly out of breath and more than a little wary.

Percy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and waiting. As though on cue, twenty-six seconds later (yes, he counted) Oliver slinked out of the shadows and collapsed into the chair across from Percy with a sigh.

"Are they gone yet?" he asked breathlessly.

Percy grinned. "You know better than that, Oliver. They don't give up that easily."

"So…?"

"Five minutes and counting," Percy replied evenly. They shared a smile. "While we're waiting, have a look at this." He pushed the paper across the table.

"What is it?" Oliver wanted to know, even as he picked it up and scrunched his face up to focus his eyes.

"A letter I got this morning," Percy replied evenly, studying Oliver's face as he read the note. "What do you make of it?"

Oliver blinked a few times before responding. "I don't really know what to say," he responded quietly. "It's not exactly…elaborate, is it?"

"No," Percy replied wryly. "Not at all. In fact, it's deceptively simple."

"Deceptively?"

"You have to read between the lines, Oliver. There are subtleties."

"There are only two lines, Percy."

"Subtleties," Percy repeated with a characteristically quiet smile. His gaze drifted out the window once more and he sighed a little. "Snow, and it's barely October."

"It will make Quidditch interesting."

"Won't it just?" He heaved a real sigh this time and glanced down into the gallery floor of the library. "Your little troupe is gone now. I believe it's safe to emerge."

"I should have known," Oliver replied without thinking. "There's no escape from them anymore."

"Between you and Potter, I can see why," Percy drawled as he sat forward to work on an essay. "Rumor has it that this year's Quidditch Cup is in the bag."

"They've said that for two years now," Oliver reminded him.

"And wouldn't it be nice if for once they were right?"

Oliver bit his lip. He wanted to win (almost) more than anything. There were a few things that came in at a very close second, but he wasn't about to voice that thought to Percy.

Come to think of it, what the hell did he mean by, "reading between the lines"? What was this new power he had gained, that he could discern the intention of an author's words, though not directly stated, by mere observation. Strange…He thought perhaps they called it, "intuition", though there was a decidedly female connotation connected with it…

…Hell, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about how much effort it had taken to find an owl he knew Percy wouldn't recognize and strap a note to its leg at four o'clock in the morning. That had only been half the fun. The other half had been sneaking in and out of their room in an effort not to wake his roommate. That was the hard part. That was the challenge. That, he thought with a slightly smug grin, had been the bigger part of the fun involved in the entire effort.

He sat back in his chair and studied his friend. "You know it's past time for dinner.."

"Is it?" Percy asked absently.

"Stop and think Percy, you know you're hungry."

The quill paused mid-word and after a moment, Percy nodded. "Let me get my things together."

"We'll have to go down to the kitchens."

Percy shrugged. "I'm more likely to get something I like if I get it directly from the elves." Thrusting a book in his bag, he stood and started to move away.

"Hey," Oliver called. Percy stopped and turned. The Scot pointed at the piece of parchment still lying on the table. "Aren't you interested in holding on to this?" he asked.

"Grab it for me, will you?"

Oliver picked up the paper and looked at it.

_You should smile more._

_You have a nice smile._

He shook his head and folded the note carefully before shoving it in his pocket.

As he followed Percy down the back stairway, he ran into a couple giggling and kissing in a slightly less remote portion of the stacks. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. "Don't you two ever get tired?" he asked as they shot him dirty looks. He thought a moment then shook his head. "Please, forget I asked."

Then he hurried down the stairs and out of the library as quickly as possible. His fan club, it seemed, were tucked snugly in their respective beds, so they were safe wandering the halls to the kitchen.

They were halfway back up to the tower, nibbling at cherry turnovers, when something suddenly occurred to Oliver. "Hey, let's go out onto the landing for a second, okay?"

Percy, looking puzzled, agreed. "All right…" he murmured, slipping through the door Oliver held open for him. "Oliver, what is it?"

Oliver reached into a pocket and drew something out, holding it to Percy. "I found these and thought you could…you know, use them. Especially as it's snowing."

"How perceptive of you, my dear Watson," Percy chuckled, accepting the package with a grin. "What is this, anyway?" He held them up, looking at the closely. For a second the smile faded, then he looked up and met Oliver's gaze, eyes shining. "Gloves," he said quietly. He smiled again, and this time it started in his eyes. "Thank you!"

Oliver blushed, though thankfully it was hard to see in the poor light of the stars. "You're welcome," he replied easily. "it was nothing, really."

"Uh-huh," Percy grinned, putting the gloves on. "these are perfect, Oliver, thank you so much."

Such effusive praise from Percy was odd. No, scratch that. It wasn't odd, it was just plain _bizarre_.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Percy nodded, flexing his fingers experimentally. "More than fine. I just…I can't believe you remembered. Thank you so much."

Oliver shrugged. "I'm not the dumb, insensitive jock all the time, you know."

"I know," Percy replied, smiling up at his roommate.

Oliver's gaze was serious. "You know," he murmured without thinking. "You really should smile more."

"You keep doing things like this," he shot back. "And I may have to."

It was only later, as he was putting this things away at his desk that a thought came to Percy. He stopped mid-stride and considered. There was little sound in the tower room. Snow had an amazing muting quality, he mused. The only other thing he heard was soft breathing from the direction of his roommate's bed. Percy turned a little and watched him as he slept.

"_You really should smile more," _echoed in his mind.

He looked at Oliver a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the contours of his face. Then he smiled.

-Fine-


	3. Rude Awakening

Title: Rude Awakening

Author: Lea Woods

Pairing: Percy Weasley/ Oliver Wood

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The characters contained herein aren't mine, though the premise of the piece is. It is in no way intended for monetary gain, on entertainment purposes. Characters and Hogwarts are copyright J.K. Rowling and her respective publishers.

Warnings: Slashy fluff or fluffy slash, depending on how you look at it. Innuendo galore! A little more graphic than usual, one swear word…blah.

Summary: Oliver was intent on staying in bed as long as possible, except…there was someone else in his bed. Someone soft and warm and…and well, someone male. What? No, he wouldn't look yet. He had to be dreaming…

---

He was warm, comfortable under the worn sheets. School sheets were so much more comfortable than the ones on his bed at home. You couldn't buy sheets as soft as Hogwarts sheets were. It wasn't that they had a higher thread count or whatever it was that the girls were always exclaiming over, but rather that they had been washed so many dozens of times that the fibers were either exquisitely soft or practically nonexistent. The sun creeping through the windows made one side of his face feel pleasantly hot. He felt like somehow he had slept for six months and skipped the end of winter, clear until the brilliant warmth of May.

Sighing half in content, half in the regret that he was actually awake, he shifted a little without opening his eyes. His mind kept whispering that it was morning, he should get up. He had things to do, younger siblings of someone else's' to torment, a Quidditch team to beat into shape…Stubbornly, Oliver ignored it, mentally bargaining for just five more minutes of bliss, and perhaps another five after that...

Bliss that was compounded seconds later by the feeling of a soft palm tracing patterns on his chest. He knew suddenly why he was warmer than usual: someone else was in his bed. His breath caught. Someone else was in his bed. _Who was…?_ Mind racing, he swallowed hard and resisted the urge to either flinch away or open his eyes. The someone shifted into the curves of his body and Oliver's pulse quickened a little more.

"Oliver…" came a husky whisper.

He recognized that voice. Involuntarily, his eyes started to open and he clenched them tightly shut. No, he wouldn't look just yet. It had to be a dream. There was no way that…that _he_ was in his bed…that would be too good to be true, too perfect…

"Oliver," he heard again, the voice no louder but growing steadily clearer. "Are you awake?"

Resolutely, Oliver shook his head negatively.

"You should really get up."

He shook his head again, immediately feigning sleep.

"Oliver, really." The voice was louder, more urgent, but he still wasn't going to open his eyes.

There were a few moments of silence. He managed to drift back into his sun-induced coma. It was so nice, the contact on his skin, the warmth of someone else, of the sun on his face…

"Oliver." The voice breaking through the haze was somewhat less amused. In fact, it was beginning to sound downright agitated.

Nope. Still wasn't going to look. If he was good he could pretend he was still out cold.

"I know you're awake, Oliver."

"No I'm not," Oliver couldn't help but mutter, turning resolutely over onto his side, away from the verbal assault and unfortunately, from the warmth he had been savoring.

The drapes were torn back and a second later the sheets were ripped off with such ferocity that there was an audible _snap_. Instinctively, the Scot curled up into a tight ball and clenched his eyes even more tightly.

Nothing.

Despite the sudden chill, he found himself drifting off again, a soft smile on his face. He had won at last. Even if it did mean he was hovering precariously on the edge of the mattress.

"Wood!" The shout was combined with about two quarts of icy water hitting his bare form.

Instinctively, Oliver rolled away from the affront and felt himself falling. "_Shit_," he muttered, just before he hit the stone floor hard. His ribs felt like he had just fallen off of his broom twenty feet to the pitch. "Yes?" He managed to groan with the little breath he had left, cracking a bleary eye open.

"You're late," Percy said dryly, walking out of the room and shutting the door crisply behind him.

Oliver groaned, but got up. He staggered back a few paces, bracing a dripping hand on his four-poster and looked back at his now sodden sheets. Three of the House cats looked up at him and purred contentedly. Another was sitting in front of the closed door, licking his wet fur in disgust.

"Don' blame me," he muttered. "Blame the git in glasses." The cats on his bed only purred louder while the one in front of the door, in typical cat style, ignored him. "On the bright side," he groaned. "Now I don't have to shower…"

Ten minutes later he was stomping toward the Great Hall, books in hand. As he left the Common room and passed the now infamous alcoves, the girl he had come to despise stuck her head out and shot him a look.

"What, no boyfriend today?" she snickered. "No snogging for the poor Quidditch captain, how sad."

"None for me either, it seems," came a more masculine voice from behind the curtain. The girl disappeared again.

Oliver kept walking. He knew he was scowling, but he didn't care. In the hall, he dropped his books very pointedly on the table across from Percy, who was very primly drinking a cup of tea while he read the Daily Prophet.

"Tough morning, Ol?" one of the twins asked, with almost genuine concern.

"Sod off."

---

_fin_

---


End file.
